And They Say Romance Is Dead
by pamwhodeathforgot
Summary: It's the twenty-ninth of Hearthfire, 4E202, and my twentieth birthday. Only now am I realizing where I went wrong. When I agreed to go to the wedding, I thought nothing of it. Just a little party, maybe an hour or so at the most. I would have to walk around and smile politely at strangers, eat good food, and kill the bride. Nothing extravagant.


Celia, the narrator, is NOT the Dragonborn. Relle, her half-sister, is. But Celia doesn't know any of this so shh... Relle, Valaye (my Dunmer Nightingale), and my sister's Altmer mage, Ava, actually make a cameo. See if you can spot them!

It's the twenty-ninth of Hearthfire, 4E202, and my twentieth birthday. Only now am I realizing where I went wrong.

When I agreed to go to the wedding, I thought nothing of it. Just a little party, maybe an hour or so at the most. I would have to walk around and smile politely at strangers, eat good food, and kill the bride. Nothing extravagant.

But when I showed up in front of the Temple of the Divines, I took note of the sheer amount of guards and soldiers present. Of course there would be some sort of guard; the cousin of the Emperor was getting married. This is a big deal. We had planned for this. I would get in, mingle, and wait until the last possible second before the bride's speech to sneak up to the balcony. There I would find the 'present' that Gabriella left me. If anything went wrong, I would have several invisibility potions, courtesy of Babette, to help me escape. If I could kill her while she was giving her little speech, I would get a bonus. I was determined that nothing would go wrong. This was one of the biggest steps in our plan, the step that would bring the Emperor of Tamriel, currently stationed in Cyrodiil, I'd assume, to Solitude.

Since it would be no use to sneak in due to the number soldiers, I straightened out my best party dress before nodding to the guards that flanked the entrance of the reception area. They didn't say anything, only nodded formally in return. Perfect. I was in.

I'm hopeless when it comes to fashion, so Babette and Gabriella helped me pick an outfit out. Apparently, black and/or red are not accepted colors at weddings (I plan to prove them wrong when I wed), and the dress they chose (courtesy of Radiant Raiment) is covered in pastel colored roses. Underneath it, I was allowed to wear plain black pants, excellent for running in. I was given permission to rip the dress if it prevented me from running. Hopefully it isn't worth too much. Sorry in advance you two.

The reception area is beautiful; open to the blue sky, with birds chirping overhead. The bride's and groom's chairs under arches of white lattice, pink and red roses snaking up the sides. Somewhere, somebody is singing; it's a bright, lively tune, with no actual words, but it's nice regardless. The woman singing, once I spot her, is wearing a robe, like a priest. If I have any time after I kill Vicci, she's next. I hate priests.

The bride and groom themselves sit on the two thrones, in front of a little balcony. There I notice the crumbling statue Babette pointed out.

Victoria Vicci, cousin of the Emperor and the bride, is sitting in the throne to the right, wearing a long white dress with a bright pink coat over it, a wreath of flowers, and fancy sandals. A gold ring glitters in the sunlight from its place on her hand. If she's truly as beautiful as others have said, I couldn't notice; I just imagined how she would look with an arrow in her throat. The groom, a Stormcloak officer, is dressed in a long tunic and a coat with a collar of fluffy brown fur.

And they say romance is dead.

It's a shame that Astrid can't be here, I noted. She would have loved this.

I took a seat in one of the benches facing the bride, and just as I did, she stood up with her almost-husband. This was my cue.

The door up to the little balcony on the opposite side of the courtyard was my destination; before anybody can notice, I'm gone.

I had a perfect view of the couple, and the distance to the ground wouldn't kill me if I jumped. If anything, I might break a wrist. But this was one of the things I love about being an assassin; no two contracts were ever the same, and there was always a certain risk involved.

Gabriella's gift turned out to be a perfectly crafted and enchanted Elven bow, some arrows, poison, and a few potions of true shot. Needless to say, they came in handy. Thanks for the tip, Babette, but I'm a better archer than… statue… pusher. Besides, everyone would have seen me push the statue, and the last thing I want is a bounty.

The couple emerges on the balcony, beaming and waving. The crowd assembled erupts into applause, even though all they're doing is standing there. Carefully I dipped and arrow into a tiny, brilliantly red bottle of poison and drank the potion of true shot. The liquid is grotesquely orange, but my hands immediately steady and tiny purple dots crisscross in front of my eyes. I've readied the bow and have an arrow nocked when I notice the words carved just above the grip in Gabriella's neat script:

_Firiniel's End_

A smile makes its way onto my face. A fitting name, and the frosty glow it gives off hints that it's extra-deadly.

Vicci is welcoming the guests as I take aim, closing one eye and squinting with the other. Before the potion can wear off, I fire.

"—friends, strangers, we would like to welcome all to witness our bond in—" The arrow hits its mark, lodging itself in her neck.

Before I can stop myself, I'm firing a second arrow into the crowd; this one takes down the priest woman, who was singing before the speech. My third hits the guard nearest to me, and before anyone can react, before the first scream can start, I've flung myself across the courtyard, and am next to the bride in an instant. The bet I made with Babette and Gabriella in mind, I take Vicci's flower wreath, ring, sandals, and I even go as far as to snatch her coat and dress. Her husband stares at me with wide eyes.

As I launched off the balcony, the first scream rips from the mouth of a young girl, who widely points at where Vicci had been standing mere moments ago. Then others follow in her lead, but soon the hands are pointing to the black, red, and green whirlwind cutting down guards; Veezara.

The Argonian stops for a moment when he sees me. "Go!" he pants. "I've got this!"

I trust the judgment of my brothers and sisters, so I dash away, my feet flying. I leave the Temple of Divines behind, snaking my way through the crowd that is gathering. Before anybody thinks anything of me, still in my party clothes, I've made it halfway through Solitude. If I can just make it to Katla's farm, I'll hop onto Shadowmere and—

Hint: this is where I went wrong.

My foot hits a loose stone, and I go flying, landing painfully on the stone street. My legs get tangled in the accursed dress, which rips all the way down the back. The sudden breeze on my shoulders is refreshing, yes, but horrifies me. Here I am, laying like a rock it the middle of the city, guards probably chasing me. Luckily I ran fast, but I don't have much time to recover. I can already hear the feet pounding after me, matching the beat of my heart, which I'm sure everyone in the hold can here.

Clutching the remains of my dress together, I duck into the nearest store; Radiant Raiment, open Morndas through Fridas from eight to eight, open Loredas from ten to five, closed Sundas. Ironic.

Taarie 'greets' me. "Oh, it's you again. What do you want?" Then she notices my dress and the state that it's in. "What have you been doing?"

I slam a coin purse onto the counter, and her eyes narrow. "I just need to see what you have in stock. Anything but this." I motion to the shredded roses. "And a bag to carry this in," I add, holding up the Vicci's outfit.

She continues to stare at me, her suspicion evident in her golden eyes. Fortunately, she doesn't ask questions.  
"Come with me," is all she says before she turns and whisks away, into the back room.

Lined up along the walls are outfits of all the colors of the rainbow, in every style and pattern imaginable. As she stands in the middle of the room, eyes raking the walls, I begin to tap my foot impatiently. Apparently the city guard didn't see me come in here; otherwise I would be in big trouble right about now. When I finally clear my throat, Taarie shakes her head a bit and begins pulling outfits off their hangers.

The first thing to hit me is a brilliantly colored skirt with polka dots. The second is perfect; brown leather pants, paired with a matching armored shirt and boots. Fingerless gloves follow.

"Wait!" I say before she can throw anything else. Her head pops out between two shirts. "This is perfect! What is this even from?"

"Old Thieves Guild armor. Some Dunmer girl came in and sold it. Didn't ask much gold for the outfit, only requested that I burn it…" Taarie taps a finger to her chin. "Although I wouldn't usually recommend wearing Thieves Guild armor in a city… You do look like you could use it," she eyes me critically, taking in my ripped dress and the bundle under my arms. "Ten septims and it's yours."

"Deal!" I pull the requested amount from the coin purse and hand it over to her. She tosses me a bag for free before leaving the room to greet a customer. I slip on the armor and toss my ruined dress into the corner and shove Vicci's outfit into the bag. When somebody in the shop speaks, I freeze and my blood runs cold.

"We're looking for a woman, maybe twenty years of age, an Imperial. Pale skin, long curly black hair. She'll be in wedding gear. There'll be a reward if you can help us find her."

Oh no! Taarie will turn me in, if the reward's high enough, she'll do it, I know she will—

"And why are you looking for this woman?"

She's stalling! She's stalling?

"The woman is accused of several murders."

I'm panicking.

"Sorry, the only Imperial I've seen today arrived just a few minutes ago. Poor girl came in, completely in rags, with ten septims! Can you believe? She expected to by an entire outfit with ten septims! Ended up with brown leather, something that came in only a few days ago. Gave it to her cheap, girl was homeless and young, what was I supposed to do? So I—"

'Panic' is an understatement.

"But what did she look like?"

Mind whirling, I stared around the room, desperately trying to find something that would change my appearance enough so they wouldn't be able to recognize me; a hat, maybe, or war paint.

"Why, she's still here, she can come out and show you!"

My eyes fall on a pair of silver cloth scissors in the corner of the room. Desperate times call for desperate measures, I think grimly, bringing the scissors up to my hair and finding the part where it transitions from straight to curly. My hair drops to the floor, along with the scissors, and I snatch a bottle of dull blue war paint. I smear it over my eyes and down the sides of my face, the way I'd seen an Altmer wearing it. I can clearly see her now in my minds eyes; running away from my Dark Brotherhood armor and my dagger, clutching the shoulder of the tiny girl with dark hair and pale skin. The small girl looked so much like me I literally froze where I was standing.

Taarie pokes her head in and mouths, "Act innocent," to me. So I try to, shuffling out from behind the counter and staring meekly up at the guards. In my attempts to look small, like the girl the other day, my shoulders curl in and my head bobs down. It feels like I look even guiltier than I usually would, so I straighten out, trying my hardest to look innocent.

He eyes me critically, taking in my war paint and short, spiky hair.

"Nope, sorry. Thank you for your time, ma'am." They leave.

Instantly my shoulders slump with relief and I bring a gloved hand up to wipe the paint off. I have blue paint all over my glove now, but that doesn't matter. Taarie saved me.

"I can't thank you enough," I turn towards her, short of breath. "You didn't have to do that."

"Obviously, I did," she says in that matter-of-fact way she has, "Because your organization has given me quite a large amount of business lately."

I can't help it; my jaw drops.

"And besides," she adds, waving her hand around, "I don't think the Eight would view me very highly if I let you be taken. Sentenced to death, I'd assume that's what would have happened to you. A public decapitation, perhaps, like good ol' Roggvir, or maybe a hanging. Death regardless. Now get out of here before I change my mind!"

The kindness of those who seem cold will never cease to amaze me.

Apparently I never noticed the girl who slipped into the shop at one point. As I turn to leave, I see her vibrant red hair and ashy Dunmer skin.

Without further conversation, I turn and flee the shop, my feet carrying me to where Shadowmere is waiting.

I reach Katla's farm without any difficulties, and there is Shadowmere in the stables, standing tall and proud, his black coat sleek and his red eyes glowing. Pulling myself up onto his saddle, I flick his reins before I've fully sat down. He rears back, almost throwing me off before easing into a steady gallop away from Solitude. I'm glad that I brought Shadowmere with me; the carriage driver is absent from his usual place.

Because I have to go all the way to Falkreath, I ride hard and fast to Morthal, the nearest city. There I'll stay, picking up food and other necessities. I'll sleep during the day and cover as much ground as possible at night. A foolproof plan.  
Then again, wasn't the assassination supposed to be a foolproof plan?

Maybe the Guild armor will lend me a bit of luck.

Probably not.


End file.
